


Donna Moss's Essential Guide to the Consumption of Ice Cream

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-05
Updated: 2008-04-05
Packaged: 2019-05-15 11:12:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14789429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: 'One scoop half fat frozen yogurt for minor annoyance, caused by someone, for example, being grouchy at you for not getting them coffee.'





	Donna Moss's Essential Guide to the Consumption of Ice Cream

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**Donna Moss’s Essential Guide to the Consumption of Ice Cream**

**by:** Cath

**Character(s):** Donna/Josh  
**Pairing(s):** Donna/Josh  
**Category(s):** Humour/Romance  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Summary:** 'One scoop half fat frozen yogurt for minor annoyance, caused by someone, for example, being grouchy at you for not getting them coffee.'  
**Author's Note:** Thanks to Yana for the beta 

Donna POV

It was after a really bad day and the fifth bowl in one night that I decided to write myself a guide to ice cream and when to eat it so, y’know, I wouldn’t get too fat. Not that I am, but if I end up eating five bowls in one night, who knows what might happen once I hit 35. 

And this guide was going to be a guide for everyone. I’d publish it, have everyone buy it, get rich, and then I wouldn’t have to work. Or, at least, I wouldn’t have to worry about getting paid practically nothing by the government.

And it was such a great plan. So what that it was a little improbable? Okay, so a lot improbable, but it had potential. Or at the very least it was going to help me ration my ice cream intake. Which, y’know, wouldn’t be a bad outcome either.

I bought a new book, a hardback notebook, and started to write it in between doing ridiculous amounts of work. 

And this was how this epic book began: 

Donna Moss’ Essential Guide to the Consumption of Ice Cream

By Donnatella Moss

2002

_A comprehensive guide about ice cream for those who need it most._

Dedicated to Joshua Lyman. 

Half-Fat Ice Cream. 

One scoop: Suitable for any occasion.

Two scoops: Minor upset. For example, the guy you just met but kind of liked doesn’t call you.

Three scoops: Minor depression caused by the guy you just met but kind of liked cancels your date.

Four scoops: Minor heartbreak. For example, the guy you just met but kind of liked goes on the date with you then doesn’t call you back. 

Low Fat Frozen Yogurt.

One scoop: Minor annoyance, caused by someone, for example, being grouchy at you all day for not getting coffee.

Two scoops: Minor depression, reason: you having to cancel your first date with someone because your slave driver boss has decided that you have to work instead. 

Three scoops: Minor heartbreak due to, for example, your boss calling the guy you really quite liked but hadn’t yet got to know a gomer. 

Four scoops: Minor heartbreak, due to, for example, having to come back early from date with said guy because your boss wants you to work. 

Plain ‘ole Vanilla:

One scoop: Semi-minor depression effected by, for instance, your boss yelling at you for no reason. 

Two scoops: Semi-minor depression cause: for example, your boss ignoring you.

And so on. I wrote more for a number of weeks, adding as I remembered something else I could put in it, like 

Plain choc: 

Four scoops: Fairly major heartbreak for example, when your boss makes disparaging and hurtful remarks about you. 

Five scoops: Quite major depression, caused by, for example, when your boss finds a nice girl to go out with and yet refuses to go out with her despite the fact that the monogrammed towels wouldn’t need to be changed. 

Ben&Jerry’s. Any flavour:

Three scoops: Fairly major depression, the source being, for example, when your boss finds a girlfriend who isn’t so nice.

Five scoops: Major heartache. For example, when your boss finds a girlfriend who isn’t so nice and he makes you arrange for him to have a romantic rendezvous with her.

Couple of pints: Really quite major heartbreak caused by, for example, when your creepy ex-boyfriend decides to cheat on you/stop for beer when you’re in an accident, however minor. 

Unlimited Pints: Huge, catastrophic, end of the world type heartbreak. For example, when your boss almost dies. 

It was only after I put down this point, pretty much near the end, that I realized that Josh influenced my life far too much. Huh. 

So I decided that I really should go about changing some of my examples. Over half in fact. Just in case Josh ever bought it and got to read it. Also, with most of these examples, I’d end up eating numerous scoops of ice cream each night with good reason. 

Huh. 

Maybe not such a bad idea. 

However, on returning to the drawer where I kept it hidden amongst all the pens, books, and other necessary items, I discovered that Donna Moss' Essential Guide to the Consumption of Ice Cream was missing.

I wondered where it was. Since, y’know, if I was going to publish it, I might need it. And that whole wanting to edit it before I sent it to the publisher was necessary too. And perhaps I’d type it out in different fonts with a pretty border.

I was getting carried away with myself. First I had to find the thing. Which was going to prove an interesting problem since I hadn’t told anyone of my dream to be a guide to ice cream writer. 

I was sure that there was a big market out there for this kind of thing. If only I could find the damn book. 

I eventually came to the conclusion that someone had stolen it. 

And this was a problem. Especially if the said stealer had read through the draft version and got entirely the wrong idea about my apparent obsession with Josh. 

It was lunchtime before I got the opportunity to ask around. I started with CJ for no reason other than the fact that I knew she was in her office. 

I knocked on her door since Carol was actually at lunch. 

"Come in," was the response. I tried to think about how I was going to phrase the accusation ‘have you stolen my notebook which makes it seem as though I have a mild, although disturbing none-the-less, obsession with my boss? No? Oh, sorry.’ 

I stood there in silence, trying to figure out what I was going to say. CJ looked at me, bemused. 

"What can I do for you?" she asked. 

"Umm," I started. "You haven’t seen a notebook around, have you?" I questioned. 

"Any notebook in particular, or just a notebook?" CJ asked.

"Umm," I started again, unsure of the phrasing one uses when trying explain this particular situation. "A notebook in particular," I ventured. 

"And how might I recognise it?"

"You just would," I explained, without actually explaining anything. 

"So I’m looking for a notebook that I’ll recognise when I see it?" CJ asked, understandably quite confused.

"So you’ve not seen it?" I inquired. 

"Well, if I’ll know it when I see it and I don’t know that I’ve seen it, I’m sure I’d have recognised it if I had seen it," CJ replied, looking as confused with what she said as I was. "So, no. I don’t suppose that I have."

"Okay," I said. "Thanks." I finished, slinking away.

"No problem," CJ answered, sounding quite puzzled. 

I decided that I would rehearse what I was going to say before I approached Sam.

"Sam!" I began, having scripted the whole conversation three hours previously. 

"Donna!" he replied with equal enthusiasm. Mocking me it would seem.

"I was wondering…" I paused as the script required. 

"And what were you wondering?" Sam asked, jovially. 

"You’ve not come across a notebook that belongs to me, have you?" I queried.

"And how might I know it belongs to you?" he asked. 

"Because it has my name in it," I replied, now entirely off script. 

"It has your name in it, does it?" Sam asked, repeating in what was quite an annoyingly joyful manner. 

"Sam," I said, warning in my voice. He had it, didn’t he?

"What!" he questioned. 

"If you have this said notebook, I would ask that you return it," I told him. 

"I haven’t got it," he said.

I narrowed my eyes at him, not believing. 

"I haven’t!" he protested. "Besides, why would I want your notebook?"

I didn’t reply. I wasn’t about to give him the benefit.

"What’s in it, in case I do see it?" he asked, and I was now fairly convinced that he was being honest. 

"Stuff," I informed him vaguely. 

"So I’m looking for a notebook with stuff in it?" he questioned. 

I nodded my head.

"Excellent," he said, the intonation of his words belying his meaning. "And if I see a notebook with stuff in it, I’ll be sure to bring it to you."

I walked off.

Toby was next. And just as unproductive. In fact, I got as far as the door when he asked me what I wanted.

"I was looking for my notebook," I told him.

"Can you come back some other time, perhaps when I actually care?" he growled. 

I gave a fake smile and walked back to my desk. 

I decided that I would ask Ainsley next, but as it turned out I couldn’t actually find her office, and so gave up. Instead I walked to the mess and got some food in order to make up for the lunch that I had missed.

Finally, I knew I had to ask Josh. I hoped and prayed that he didn’t have the draft of the book. As bad as it was imagining that his friends had seen it, it was worse picturing what Josh himself might think of the book. Or the fact that I had been writing it while I was supposed to be working. 

I’d been avoiding him all day. Just in case someone had told him or he’d somehow found out what I’d written. I didn’t even believe what I’d written, I mean despite appearances, how likely was it that I would actually be obsessed with Josh? Extraordinarily unlikely! He’s got a girlfriend, and I’m just his assistant, and… Yeah. Entirely too implausible! 

But I wasn’t sure if he would see it that way if he heard about my book. Or the first draft of my book, anyway. 

It was late evening by the time I got up the courage to ask him. 

"Josh?" I asked, entering his office.

"Yeah?" he replied, looking up from his work.

"You haven’t seen my notebook, have you?" I asked. He looked deep in concentration for a minute or two.

"A notebook?" he inquired. 

"Yes, a notebook. My notebook," I replied succinctly. 

"Where did you have it last?" he asked.

"It was in my desk drawer. And it’s no longer there," I informed him. 

"And what was in it?" he asked. 

"Stuff," I said. He just looked at me, so I elaborated. "Some stuff on ice cream," I told him, sure that my face was now going deep red. I don’t know why I had told him.

"I don’t think so, but I’ll have a look around," he said, sitting there and looking at me. 

"Could you?" I asked. 

He nodded.

"Umm, could you look now?" I asked impatiently. 

He sifted through some of the mountain of files and papers on his desk, finally unearthing something that looked distinctly like my book.

"Umm, would it be this notebook?" he asked sheepishly, looking briefly through the pages. Damn, I must have left it there earlier when I gave him some files. 

"Josh!" I protested, attempting to grab it off him. "Give it to me!" I demanded, launching myself at him in an endeavour to reclaim what was mine. 

"Donna Moss’ Essential Guide to the Consumption of Ice Cream?" He asked, reading off the first page. I hoped to God that he would read no further.

"Josh, please," I implored. "You read any further and I’ll…." I hesitated, not knowing what I would do.

"You’ll what?" he asked, smirking. 

"I’ll quit?" I all but asked, not believing it myself. 

"I don’t think you would," he informed me helpfully.

"Yeah? Why not?" I asked, still attempting to grab it away from him. Instead he turned the page. 

"Because…. Hey! You dedicated it to me!" I was beginning to regret this decision. 

"Yes, because you’re the reason I have to eat so much goddamn ice cream!" I told him, quite annoyed now. I walked round the desk and managed to lean over him and seize the arm that was holding my book hostage. 

He let me take the book off him. I could feel my face flushing as I looked at him sitting there and decided I couldn't laugh this off. I started to leave the room, far too embarrassed to remain there.

"Huge, catastrophic, end of the world type heartbreak," he quoted quietly. I froze. "Was it really that bad?" he asked.

"Worse," I practically whispered on exiting. I knew that he had heard me. 

"Donna!" He followed me out to my desk and blocked my way. "I'm sorry."

"You shouldn't have read it," I said flatly.

"No - no. I'm sorry you...I'm sorry I make you eat this much ice cream," he said softly.

"Oh," I could feel my face getting more flushed and I knew the tears were about to start. I clutched the book to my chest.

"Donna, don't – " He put his arms around me, book and all, for a second, then stepped back. "I'm sorry," he said again, fixing me with his eyes.

I nodded and gazed back at him.

"Listen," he began, breaking our stare. "You like ice cream. Why don't…"

The phone interrupted him. He grabbed it. "Josh Lyman."

"Hello Amy," he greeted his girlfriend. He looked at me and put his hand over the phone. "I’m just going to take this…" he motioned towards his office. I took this opportunity to go home, the notebook firmly wedged into my bag. 

I threw it into the trash as soon as I got in, resolving to eat as much ice cream as I wanted. 

Just as I started on my fourth spoonful, though, I heard a knock on the door.

I reluctantly got up from the couch and opened the door to see him standing there, a bag in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.

"Josh? What are you doing here?" I asked. 

He grinned and held up the bag. "Ice cream," he said. "I thought… You said earlier… Maybe we…" 

"Come in," I invited. "Now, try again…" He entered the room and I shut the door behind me. 

His lips upon mine were all the answer I needed. 

"What about Amy?" I asked breathlessly, realising the full implications of what we were doing. 

He kissed me again in reply. 

"What about the ice cream?" I asked seconds later, thinking about how it would be melting.

"Just shut up about Amy and the ice cream and keep with the programme, would you?" Josh asked me, grinning widely. 

I didn’t object. Screw the ice cream, it could wait. 

There’d be reason enough some other time. 

THE END 


End file.
